The Potion That Caused Her To Be Late
by Touya's Dream
Summary: So…Maybe I am a sadist? Lol or a masochist? I have no idea what was going through my insane head. I know Snape is out of character, leave me aloneeee lol. It's just a weird mentor fanfic that I wrote out of boredom. So…don't judge meeee! Lol.


_So…Maybe I am a sadist? Lol or a masochist? I have no idea what was going through my insane head. I know Snape is out of character, leave me aloneeee lol. It's just a weird mentor fanfic that I wrote out of boredom. So…don't judge meeee! Lol._

She was running…it was raining…the windows were open…the floors were wet…

The potions classroom which normally resided in the dungeon was upstairs today. She was already late, having been previously engaged in reading about a healing potion in the library. Her bag made heavy jingling sounds as her flasks and ingredients jumbled together within. She didn't mind. The Apothecary was her favorite shop. Shopping for new ingredients and colorful bottles always made her heart race with excitement.

Finally reaching the spiral staircase that led to the fourth floor, she felt a sense of happiness, thinking about the potion she had been reviewing today. As she sped around the corner, her classroom now within sight, she suddenly felt nothing beneath her own two feet. Excitement quickly gave way to fear as she slipped violently onto the concrete floors. Her bag was flung into the air, turning upside down in the process. She gasped, covering herself with her hands. The bag emptied its contents above her which rained multicolored potions and fractured glass around her. For a moment, she was relieved that none of her potions were toxic or dangerous. Her robe was stained, but it was nothing that couldn't be washed out. Down the hall, the class was staring at her with a horrified expression on their faces through the cracked door. She thought their expression was caused by the fact that she slipped. By the time she noticed her teacher standing before her, it was too late.

"Professor…Snape," she whispered at the intimidating man towering above her. Her breath held in fear.

"Miss Alexander."

He said her name flawlessly, without hesitation in a low voice. There was silence as his eyes began to quickly scan over her fallen form. She knew he was analyzing the contents that each broken glass held. Not that he cared for the affairs of clumsy students. First-year students were forbidden to craft potions without the supervision of a potions master. His natural curiosity over what potions had been spilt was what probably brought him closer to her in the first place. If she had slipped with a bag full of owls, he would have continued teaching the class without even glancing her way.

"Get to the infirmary, Miss Alexander. When you have that glass removed from your side, return to clean up this mess. Then, either replace your potions set immediately or never return."

Her mouth dropped at the words, "never return" before looking down at the front of her body. A crystal shard from her favorite vial had impaled itself within her skin. It was now shining red with blood.

Snape had already turned back around, his robe flowing behind him as he returned to the classroom down the hall. Struggling to stand, she wobbled before falling to her knees. Clutching the cold stone wall for support, she knew pleading would not get her any help from Professor Snape. She had been here before, several times. Never impaled of course, this was a first. Yet, somehow, she always found herself underneath his critical stare. It was this connection…no, this mere association of a servant and a master that always motivated her. It was through these experiences that she discovered that the path to mysterious Professor Snape was not good behavior or good grades. After all, the only thing that could cause a master notice his own servant was an act of pure disobedience.

Opening her mouth, she finally exhaled. "No…"

Despite her voice being so low, that one word could have stopped time.

Professor Snape's dark form came to a complete halt. Turning around towards her, he narrowed his eyes. "Do as I say."

"I will not…" she responded, breathing heavily. She knew she had crossed the line the moment he had to repeat himself. Now she was heaping burning coals on his confidence. A man will commit murder to regain his pride.

Professor Snape took two threatening steps toward her kneeling form. She allowed him to come, refusing to back away despite the fear that she felt within her.

"Miss Alexander…" he continued walking towards her until they were inches apart. She clutched her side, forcing herself to ignore the pain of her self-inflicted wound. She had a very low tolerance for pain. He knew that, often using that weakness against her during moments like these…like now.

His white hand suddenly flashed before her eyes, striking her across the cheek swiftly and nearly silently. The whispering sound that escaped her lips was louder than his single and yet somehow elegant strike. His black robe swayed behind him, blocking the view of what just happened from her peering classmates. To them, it simply looked as though he had taken another step forward. For a long moment, there was no sound except for the rain which resonated throughout the hallway. Lowering her head, she touched her cheek and felt a cold chill run down her spine. Her hand was cold. No…his hand had been warm.

When she finally looked up again, he was closer…no…too close. Like always, his movements never made a sound. One hand was in his pocket. In the other was his wand which he pointed directly at her. Beneath his wand, she felt very weak…very vulnerable despite her courageous stand which inevitably transformed kneeling in pain to kneeling in surrender. He was a powerful wizard who used fear combined with silent strength to have his students submit to his authority.

After a long moment in this position, a warm sensation suddenly appeared in her side, flooding half of her body in comforting heat. Looking up into his dark disinterested eyes, she realized he was healing her wound. Momentarily glancing down into her gray eyes, he spoke. "Since you feel obligated to question my intelligence regarding internal injuries…you…will remain after class and craft twenty healing potions for the school infirmary." The heat intensified mercilessly, causing her to cry out before the wound altogether disappeared.

Still in a kneeling position, she opened her mouth to reason that she was only a first-year student, but then realized it was neither a question nor an option. It just was. The healing potion he spoke of just so happened to be the very same potion she was studying in the library moments earlier…it was the potion that caused her to be late.

_Ummm...yeah lol. You can review if you want. I will most likely read it on my phone before proceeding to blush, giggle, and cover my face in embarassment, _

_thinking, "What was I thinking!" which will cause me to eventually delete this portal to the dark world of my life forever. _


End file.
